


Leather

by cmshaw



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-30
Updated: 2002-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmshaw/pseuds/cmshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Would it be permissible to lick this whip?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather

**Author's Note:**

> * Fox offers tigercait a very nice braided whip  
> &lt;Fox&gt; will that help?  
> &lt;cmshaw&gt; ooh, lovely!  
> * cmshaw watches fraser run his hands over the leather, flex it gently, and hold it up in front of his face

"Fraser, do not lick that."

"I wasn't going to lick it."

"It's not yours."

"I wasn't going to lick it."

"You were."

"I was not, Ray. I was simply smelling the leather."

"Smelling the leather. You don't need to do that to smell the leather, Fraser. I can smell the leather all the way over here."

Fraser looks around the party, then turns to the woman leaning casually against the table. "Would it be permissible to lick this whip?" he asks.

Arching an eyebrow, she says, "Yes, Ben, it would absolutely be all right."

"Open your mouth, Ray."

"What?"

Fraser rubs the butt of the whip across Ray's lip. "Open your mouth and close your eyes," he whispers.

Ray's eyes close, and he parts his lips a little hesitantly.

Fraser slides the end of the whip just barely into Ray's mouth and runs it gently over his tongue. Ray tries to lick the handle, and Fraser pulls back. Ray opens his mouth and waits, and Fraser puts the whip in again. His eyes are still closed. Fraser leans forward and rubs his cheek along the handle of the whip, then licks lightly at Ray's chin. Ray tries to lick the whip again. Fraser pulls it away and cracks it in the air beside Ray's face this time.

Ray jumps, panting through his open mouth, but doesn't open his eyes.

"Good," Fraser says, and this time it's his tongue stroking between Ray's lips and over Ray's tongue.

Ray makes a little sound in the back of his throat, but doesn't try to kiss back.

"Good," Fraser says again, stronger this time, and he pulls Ray to him. One hand lifts the back of Ray's old teeshirt, and Fraser trails the whip caressingly over the Ray's bare skin.

Ray's trembling now, and Fraser thinks it's probably just stubbornness which holds him still. Ray's fists are clenched at his sides, but he doesn't lift his arms. He keeps his eyes closed and his mouth opened because he thinks Fraser thinks he can't.

Fraser, on the other hand, knows just how much self-control Ray is capable of. He rolls the whip over and over against the small of Ray's back, and nips teasingly at Ray's lower lip. He can do anything, anything at all. It's a heady feeling.

Fraser sets the whip on the table and holds Ray's hips in both hands. His mouth drifts upward, brushing Ray's cheekbone and pressing a brief kiss on the corner of his still-closed eyes. "Can you really do this?" he murmurs against Ray's hair, mostly because he likes hearing Ray's bravado.

"Course I can," Ray mutters back. "Come on. Try me." He twitches under Fraser's hands.

Fraser bites his shoulder, a swift hard bite that'll leave a semi-circle of teethmarks. Ray's back arches, but when Fraser looks up his eyes are still closed and his lips are still parted.

When Fraser looks down, Ray's jeans are tented in front. "Take off your shirt," Fraser says, and Ray unbuckles his shoulder holster and hands it blindly to Fraser. Fraser checks the safety and puts it carefully on the table -- the woman pats the gun and nods reassuringly at him -- and turns to watch Ray pull his teeshirt smoothly over his head. Sweat is running enticingly down his chest.

Fraser holds Ray's teeshirt in front of his face and inhales slowly; then, grinning because Ray can't see him, he sticks out his tongue and licks Ray's shirt with gusto.

He's been absolutely silent about it, and Ray's eyes are squeezed shut like a small child's just before Christmas morning, but the corner of Ray's mouth curls up and Fraser realizes that Ray knows exactly what he's doing. Fraser folds the shirt on the table next to the holstered gun, hoping that Ray can't hear him blush.

"Turn around," he says, taking Ray's shoulders in his hands and turning him to face the table. He slides his hands down Ray's sweaty arms and moves Ray's hands forward, sliding his thumbs across Ray's palms before bracing Ray against the table. Fraser looks at Ray's bent back. He puts his mouth between Ray's shoulderblades and laps at the salty slippery skin there; it tastes like sex, as it should, but he can also feel the thin vulnerability of Ray's skin stretched taut.

He shaved for this evening's outing, and he regrets that now as he looks at Ray's smooth, unmarked skin when he lifts his mouth. He puts one hand flat against Ray's back and with the other hand he picks up the whip and shakes it out. "Hold still, please," he says, and Ray's head bobs once and then goes still as Ray hunches a little to offer more of his bare back to Fraser.

It's amazing to Fraser that his own arm lifts the whip up and brings it down sharply across the skin where his palm had just pressed. Ray's breath catches and the muscles in his shoulders bulge as he grips the edge of the table, but he holds stubbornly still.

There are faint red lines across Ray's back. Fraser runs his fingers over them wonderingly, feeling the raised skin. He did that. Ray let him, and Ray could have stopped him so easily.

He puts his tongue on Ray's back again; he can feel the heat in the skin and the texture of the flogger's strands. Ray even tastes faintly of the supple leather now. Fraser sets the whip back on the table and leans over Ray again. He can see his teethmarks in Ray's shoulder, and he nips lightly over them, not hard enough to leave another mark but still enough to make Ray quiver and moan. He's hard inside his jeans, and he reaches one hand around and can feel that Ray is throbbing within the confines of the denim. Ray twitches again, but doesn't press against his hand, so Fraser grasps him roughly in reward.

Ray does make a sound now, a hoarse needy groan that feels like it tugs directly on Fraser's groin.

Fraser grabs Ray's shoulders and spins him around to face Fraser again. He lunges forward to kiss Ray's open mouth and twists until he can put his hand back over Ray's cock, rubbing it through the denim. Ray's hands are still fisted at his sides, and Fraser marvels at his control. In Ray's place, he's not sure he wouldn't be begging.

Fraser curls his hand around Ray's testicles. "Look at me," he says into Ray's open mouth, and Ray's eyes snap open. They're almost all pupil, dark and hungry, and Ray stares directly into Fraser's eyes as he arches up a little, a very little, and visibly climaxes.

Fraser rubs his hand slowly over Ray's jeans, feeling the denim grow damp under his fingers, and then steps back and opens his own jeans. Ray drops immediately to his knees; his mouth is still open, and he licks his lips several times.

Fraser holds Ray's face between his hands and leans forward. "Lick me, please," he says, and Ray's tongue curls wetly under the base of his cock. Fraser sighs, and wraps his hand around the shaft of his cock, and pushes Ray back again. When he climaxes, it paints pearly white stripes across Ray's chest.

It matches the reddened stripes he left on Ray's back.

Fraser stands there, breathing heavily and still gently stroking himself, as Ray rolls easily to his feet and grins. Ray looks extraordinarily pleased with himself. "Told you," he says.

Fraser realizes that he is smiling ridiculously, but he tries for a stern, "I didn't tell you to stand up yet."

Ray's grin is -- there is no other word -- cocky. "Hey, I came, you came, game over. Unless you want to go again?"

Fraser sighs and tucks himself back into his jeans. "Perhaps later," he says, zipping up as he marvels at Ray's energy. He sticks out his hand reflexively as he says, "Good game."

Ray laughs and pumps his hand. "Good game!" he agrees. "Come on, give back the whip and let's get something to drink."

Blushing, Fraser drops his hand back to his side. "Don't you want to change your pants?" he asks.

Ray looks down. "Oh. Yeah, maybe so." He grins at Fraser and winks. "Come on, give the lady back her whip--"

"It's a flogger, Ray."

"Give it back, Fraser. I'll buy you one of your very own for your birthday, okay?"

Fraser smiles. "I'd like that very much," he says.

Ray picks up his holster and shirt, looks at Fraser, and pulls the holster on over his bare skin. He tosses the shirt to Fraser. "Home," he says.

"Home," Fraser agrees, and they go home.


End file.
